Down to the Sea
by stareagle
Summary: Gibbs reflects on his life after his many chats with Dr Taft. The impact of the shooting has revealed that his attitude needed an adjustment for all the pain to go away.


Down to the sea

by Stareagle

He had changed. Doc was right that this encounter with death was different.

Mike had told him to start living and drop the death-wish and bone-head behavior. Kelly had told him to find joy in the time he had left. Doc Taft had told him "Concentrate on the joy- the miracles in your life...make a conscious choice to be grateful for those memories instead of wallowing in loss."

Tony had been deeply shaken by his injury – the panic in Tony's voice had registered even in those moments he'd first been shot and again when he'd collapsed in the bullpen.

Abs and Ellie had watched him like hawks while he was in the hospital – ready to tie him to the bed, resting, instead of going to Stan's aid.

Tony and even McGee had been alarmed and resistant when Gibbs stated his intention to sail solo in the Pacific, between Baja and Los Angeles. Gibbs soothed the ruffled feathers of his team when he made plans to take Amira and Leila to the new shack that he had built on Mike's beach. Callen had borrowed a pick-up truck with a boat trailer and sailboat for Gibbs use. Abby had programmed a check-in schedule in his cell and showed him how to use the camera function on his phone so he could email pictures to her. She wouldn't let him leave her lab until he demonstrated he could use it! More evidence that he had changed!

He realized he was loved on both sides of the Veil between life and death.

The white beach sand surface resembled the pattern on the blue choppy surface of the sea. Small gentle rollers created a soothing rhythm. To the south, a stony outcrop of rocks extended in finger-like projections – natural jetties pointing to much larger breakers... reminding him that the unseen terrain below the surface had a profound influence at the interface of water and air.

Seagulls played tag with the foam, reminding him of his own first encounter with the ocean. A Pennsylvania country boy from inland coal country who went on a trip with his class to Mystic Sea Port in Connecticut. He fell in love with the old wooden sailing ships – his active imagination conjuring encounters with pirates and privateers. For the first time, he saw the vastness of a distant horizon. His sharp vision detecting a tall mast with sail emerging from the sea. He watched as more of the ship became visible, remembering that Columbus had made a similar observation, giving him confidence that the earth was round; he wouldn't fall off the table top flat earth that so many of his contemporaries still feared. That just left the sea monsters to contend with.

When he had returned home, he and his dad built a small sailfish, basically a flat surfboard type shape with a rudder, centerboard and a sail. He sailed it on the large pond by his grand dad's cabin. He became quite adept at anticipating changes in wind direction and speed, learning the hard way through trial and error.

The tide was ebbing. A small seagull swooped down to pick up a crab or clam exposed by the receding surf as images of Kelly chasing the gulls, dancing at the water's edge and giggling with glee on her first sailboat trip came to his mind.

"We're going to tip, Daddy! We're gonna fall off into the sea!" she shrieked.

He'd showed her how he played tag with the wind.

When they returned to the shore, she sang a child's song of her hero father who seemed to be master of the sea and wind. As night fell, he'd built a campfire on the beach, roasting hot dogs, then marshmallows, enjoying the music of the surf and the crackling of the fire in counterpoint. For a few minutes he basked in the peaceful memories and the joy of those moments.

As the sun slipped below the horizon, the red orange glow sharply outlined the tip of Catalina Island. Abs would like this he thought as he snapped the photo and sent it on its way.

Yes, he'd changed. His old self would not have noticed or meditated on the beauty around him, much less take the time to share it. He realized that the stoic and brusque Marine persona was also his armor – protecting, disguising and hiding his bruised spirit. He had held a part of his soul captive, refusing to indulge or share the happier memories in his life, a bully punishing his gentle side for the losses he could not prevent.

He was free now. Free to feel the wind, the sea, the sand. Free to enjoy the dance of waves on shore and bask awash in the love of life that was his to reclaim. Rule 28 – it is alright to ask for help.

He had changed. Doc was right that this encounter with life was different too.


End file.
